The rise of the Undead Warlock Lord
by nugetsnfries
Summary: Takes place after the adventure Shea and his brother went on. My first fan fic so if its a bit crappy, please tell me what i should improve on. thanks :P
1. Betrayed

Another summer had passed since Shea and Flick had returned from their quest. Now they sat comfortably in the Palace of Leah conversing about past events. There was a cool summer breeze that blew in from the windows coming from the massive river, the Rappahalladran River from the northwest. The summer wildlife noises sounded from outside. Menion Leah stared contently outside as the story was passed onto him.

A dragonfly wavered around the windowsill of the library in which they sat. Menion caught himself staring at the beauty of the dragonfly. There weren't many of them left in the world and they certainly did not exist in the climate of the Highlands. Maybe, the destruction of the Warlock Lord had brought about peaceful changes he wondered in amazement. The sun's rays reflected off the dragonfly's wings with gave it a color as if light had passed through a crystal. The colors slowly filled the library as the dragonfly shifted itself higher and landed upon the window shades.

"Are you listening, an obviously agitated Flick asked?"

Momentarily, Menion detached himself from his thoughts long enough to catch the last word of Flick's sentence. He noticed that Shea was having trouble skinning the orange he was trying to eat. He drew his hunting knife from his boot and passed it to Shea who whispered a thanks in return.

"Of course I am, I would be dumb to pass up an offer to listen to your story my friend."

Flick acknowledged that Menion had not heard what he had been saying for the past couple of minutes and took the liberty of repeating what he had said to Menion who apparently was staring out the window again. Nonetheless, Flick began to retell his story to Menion.

"We were trekking through the forests of Arborlon when…"

Suddenly, a sharp yell came from outside the palace window. The breeze that had blown in from the forests around Leah had now stopped. There was no noise at all, only silence following the yell they had heard. The three friends immediately rushed to the window to examine what was the conflict, just in time to see a figure dressed in dark robes, burned to ashes by a stream of fire. The heat from that fire was so great that even at the distance that stood between the fires and the castle, was felt strongly at the palace. It was as if a shockwave of heat had been sent out from the fires that engulfed the dark robed figure.

There stood a solitary figure only a couple feet from the scorched ground in which now only ashes stood. The figure was about 6 feet tall and not very wide. The robes it wore were black that even the sun's ray could not penetrate through the robe. It had very strong arms that were laced with muscle and sinew, both pulsating softly as it moved closer to the palace gates. It moved with such agility and speed that it seemed to glide across the highlands to the gates of Leah. It seemed that the figure would have rammed down the gates if he had not stopped, barely a few feet from the gates…waiting for something. Whatever it was waiting for did not happen and it began to walk in a cautious manner to the gates of Leah. It crossed the bridge above the moat, muscles tensed, ready for a surprise attack that would not be. The highlander Menion had not been expecting a visitor today. The figure stopped at the gates and slowly lifted an arm and knocked 3 times on the old oak gate that barred entry into the palace of Leah. It kept its hood wrapped around its lowered head so that its true nature could not be seen.

The three friends stared out of the library window at the figure, each lost in their own thoughts. Finally, the silence was broken by an astonished Menion who looked at Shea and Flick with eyes that asked if they knew anything about this. The response was what he had expected. None of them knew what was happening. Menion wished now that he had not been so quick to dispatch his guards for the long weekend. Now, they were alone in the palace and undefended. Menion swore silently at his stupidity. How could a prince of Leah make such a mistake and leave his beloved palace unguarded. He was busy tormenting himself as the half brothers, Shea and Flick looked on when suddenly, he remembered about his son. Immediately, he asked Shea and Flick to go and look after his son while he went to confront the thing that was now at the door. With a gesture of agreement, Shea and Flick began to walk to the southern wing of the palace, to where Rone resided in.

Menion watched as the two brothers walked off to his son's room until they disappeared around a corner before heading back down the palace stairs to the room in which he kept his fabled Sword of Leah in case something like this ever happened. He did not believe that he would need his sword anymore since the last of the evils was defeated a summer ago but the need had arisen again. It was only a few minutes walk to the palace stairs. Passing many corridors, he did not notice the absence of the inhabitants of the rooms. He was thinking instead of the war between the Warlock Lord and the last stand he had made at Callahorn. He didn't feel like fighting. With a disappointed sigh, he walked down the last stair and down the hall to the room in which his sword was kept. He grasped the handle to the door and slowly turned the knob, lamenting every step he took to the cabinet inside the room in which his sword lay. He found the cabinet empty.

_Shea_ _and Flick_ made their way through the palace, looking for Rone's room which was somewhere on the topmost floor of the castle. The walls of the castle in this section had been toughened to withstand the most of damage. Menion apparently did not want his son to be hurt. The walls were thicker but made of the same material as the rest of the palace was, great colored stone. The two brothers had not spoken to each other since Menion had directed them to Rone's room. They knew the possible danger behind what had happened and had decided not to talk to save energy in case it was needed. Shea reached up and released a secret latch located on the grey stone that was 3 from the left corner of the wall. Immediately, the wall swung open revealing a set of stairs that led to the second floor of the southern corridor. They were just about to ascend the stairs when suddenly, the sound of battle erupted explosively from the main hall where Menion had gone.

"That's Menion! We have to go back and help him. He might need our help, Flick tried to convince Shea."

"No, Menion does not need us to interfere. He asked us to get his son and keep him out of harm. We would be slowing him down if we were to go and help him fight. It would be best if we retrieved his son. It would help him more if we obtained his son and kept him safe."

"I don't feel safe leaving Menion to attend to a monster like that!"

"What can we do to help him in battle? Look at us, all we have on us are these flimsy hunting knives. Would they do much good against a creature of magic?"

"We should still try and help him, Flick tried to reason with Shea."

"Seeing as you cannot be convinced, you go and help Menion. I will go and get his son. Be careful, that kind of magic can kill easily. I have gone against it and know what you are up against.

Flick and Shea said their farewells and Flick turned the corner and ran to help Menion. Shea turned around and peered into the dark stairway until his eyes had adjusted to the light in the stairway. He steadily ascended the rickety stairway up to the second floor of the southern wing. The second floor of the southern wing differentiated from the first floor by large. It had the look of a palace with its walls made of smooth purple marble. There were iron spikes driven into the walls so that any outside attempt at penetration was made nearly impossible. There were arrow slits for the archers that were dispatched along with the guards for the long weekend by Menion.

His heart raced as he neared the corridor in which Rone lived in. The door to the room was slightly ajar. There were scratch marks on the door and the door handle had been snapped off. The handle lay on the floor just outside of the room. Through the narrow crack of the open door, he saw that everything was in disorder. The room had been trashed as if the attackers were looking for something. Without opening the door any further, Shea knew that they had been too late to save Menion's son. He hastily turned around and dashed towards the stairs and to the main hall to tell Menion about what had happened.

The living quarters were located at the northern part of the palace. It was a room in which there were dummies for training on and all the services for life. It had its own restaurant (abandoned since it was the weekend), own swimming pool and many other luxuries of life. The walls in these rooms were unlike any other part of the palace. The walls were laced with paintings and other various decorations to make the room appear more lively. On the far walls of the room were windows that stretched from 2 feet above the ground to the ceiling. The view outside the windows were the most glorious part of the highlands.

There were gigantic redwood trees that bent over with age, massive mountains that stretched beyond the horizon, plains that were flat that an egg could be stood upon it easily without falling. Streams and raging rivers rushed down the mountain slopes and cut through the plains until it rested in a beautiful lake, carved down into the plains. The sun glared through the windows, leaving uniquely shaped shadows, stretched upon the ground. It seemed that nothing could destroy the beauty of the living quarters.

In this room was Rone. He was not in his room as he was supposed to be. Rone looked much like his father Menion. He had his father's eyes and incredible strength. Rone also had the power to summon the magic that laid dormant in the Sword of Leah. Being a direct descendant of the Leah bloodline, he would become king when Menion dies. Because of Menion's addiction to the magic that laid in the Sword of Leah, the magic had affected him indirectly and had shown in his son Rone. Rone possessed the power of immunity to many other magics that dominated the four lands. Not many knew of his special power.

He picked up the Sword of Leah and began to swing it about, not knowing that his father needed it most now. He had taken the sword from the cabinet in where it was kept, meaning to see for himself the power that the Sword of Leah had infused in it. The power did not come out however. He had tried on many occasions to make it work, but he was unsuccessful each time. Attempting to summon its power again, he swung it at a dummy that shattered under the blow that was dealt.

Rone looked at the blade, astonished that he could destroy the dummy with ease. His reflection reflected dully off the blade. The blade seemed like any other normal blade but upon further examination, one could see magic at work. The sword itself had not one scratch, not one dent, even after the many battles it had been through and experienced. The sword was amazingly durable and could cut through anything, even stone walls. This was made possible because the sword contained magic, fused of Allanon's magic and the magic of the Hadeshorn which was deadly poison which none but the druid Allanon dared to go near.

He began to swing the blade again to strike at another dummy placed for combat training when the door behind him opened. A person that Rone knew entered the room. The person took Rone by his arm and whispered softly to him in his ear. Rone looked as if he was surprised at what the person had said and dropped the Sword onto the ground. Rone then nodded as if he understood what he had been told. Without another word, the person led Rone out of the room, hand in hand, away from the palace, away from his father, away from the figure that stood at the gates.

The castle slowly disappeared from view as Rone was led by the person who had come to get him at the living quarters. They were well onto the mountains before Rone sensed that something was wrong. It was then that Rone found out that he had been tricked and had been betrayed by the thing that now stood beside him.

_The solitary figure_ that had walked cautiously to the gates of Leah and waited for the gates to open had now lost its patience. It had decided that it had enough of waiting when no one appeared to open the gates. It rose its arms and launched a stream of fire, the same fire that had burned another creature to ashes, only a few moments ago. The gates burned down fiercely and easily. Nothing was left of the gates but the scorched ground and the empty doorway. It stepped into the palace and looked as if it had been to the palace before. It moved at an alarmingly fast rate as if he knew where everything was and headed immediately to where Rone had once been. It turned left and went to the door that led to the living quarters and training room. With a wave of his hands, the door flew open to reveal that it was empty, save for the mighty Sword of Leah that lay scattered upon the ground. It let out a barely audible laugh knowing that it had succeeded and had deceived all.

"You there! What do you think you are doing, intruding into my palace like this, Menion demanded."

Menion finally got the chance to see the figure that had been at the gates up close. The figure had scaly arms, legs and sprouted a tail that dragged across the floor as it walked. The face was of the intruder was still hidden behind the hood. It resembled something of an overgrown lizard that stood on its hind legs.

The thing merely looked at him, disregarding what Menion had said. It disregarded the fact that Menion was even there. In a rush of anger, Menion charged at the thing. It reacted instantly and dodged Menion's assault and glided deeper into the room. Its movements so swift, that it caught the highlander off guard. Its scaly hands now slipped free of the robes unveiling razor sharp claws. It hissed venomously at the highlander. Menion reached to his boot to draw his hunting knife only to find emptiness. His knife wasn't there! He remembered then that he had given it to Shea only moments ago. Frantically looking around the room for something to arm himself, he spotted the missing Sword of Leah on the floor, the very last place he thought of to look. Did he leave it there when he last trained he thought. He hastily retrieved his sword while dodging his attacker's swipes.

Menion heaved the sword with two hands into the air, swinging it in fits of fury to try and hit his attacker. The sword moved as if it were as light as a feather. He feinted a stab to the abdomen with his sword, trying to catch his attacker off guard but his attacker was as skilled as him and was unaffected. This went on for a long time, none could find an opening in the other. Menion had not summoned the magic of the Sword yet, hoping that he wouldn't have to. Then, his attacker moved with such speed and agility that Menion did not register that it had moved. It slammed into Menion who dropped to the floor and slid halfway across the room from the force that had been delivered. When he recovered, he looked up only to find that the room was abandoned. In confusion, he searched cautiously around the room but could not find his attacker. At that instant, the attacker knew he had the element of surprise. It jumped away from the ceiling, where it had attached itself and landed silently and swiftly on the ground. Without hesitation, it raised its arms and lanced fire at the human who had its back turned to it.

_Flick_ now dashed through the barren hallways, disregarding the silence that surrounded him. The click of his shoes as he hit the ground was the only thing that broke the silence. Something was terribly wrong. He had come to that conclusion when he had first seen the figure in robes. Shea had told him not to worry about anything, and that he would take care of Rone. But what if something h ad already happened to Rone, he thought to himself? He slowed his run to a stop as he whispered to himself to keep his panic from rising.

"I've got to keep these thoughts at bay and concentrate if I plan to be of any use to Shea or Menion, Flick told himself."

He had last thought these words a summer ago when he was under attack by the Warlock Lord and his minions. How he hated feeling helpless. The Warlock Lord had made him feel helpless when it almost succeeded in destroying the four races, him included. Now he felt the same helpless sense...dashing through the remaining twists and turns that lay before him, Flick could not get the thoughts that something was terribly wrong out of his mind.

_Menion_ had yelped in pain and surprise as the fire encircled him and threatened to scorch him. The battle hardened instincts that lay inside him had saved him once again. He had jumped away to avoid the fires once he had first felt it strike at him. He turned this time to see that his opponent was still lancing fire at him in a fury a rapid strikes. The Sword of Leah was beginning to pulse softly in his hands. He knew what was happening. The magic wanted to release itself, the same magic that now flowed through his pounding veins. The Sword of Leah suddenly flared to life as Menion counterattacked the flames that sought to consume him. Lost in the magic of the Sword, he charged and attacked irregardless of his own safety as the Sword of Leah dissolved the flames. With one quick thrust to the abdomen, the thing that had been lancing fire stopped and pushed against his abdomen in shock that it had been injured.

It was happening again. He could see himself so clearly that it would seem that he was outside his own body. He saw himself, lost in the magic of the Sword, bringing about the sword for one final strike...the strike that would claim the life of its attacker. He could not let that happen yet. He had to seek out the answers that only his attacker knew. Breathing in heavily and sucking in big gulps of air, he sought to calm his anger and lock the magic of the Sword of Leah back inside the blade. He was met with resistance from the blade that now craved for more flesh and blood. Closing his eyes and thinking of more pleasant times, he felt himself lowering his arms and avoiding the final blow. After what seemed like a long time, Menion finally calmed the Sword of Leah's magic back into the blade. The sword that had once flared brightly with magic now returned to its usual dull appearance. Breathing out in relief, he locked his eyes onto his attacker and began to interrogate him.

"Who are you and what do you want of Leah, Menion asked."

The creature which now lay upon the floor bleeding to death now responded with a series of quick laughs. It was dying. Its hood that it worn, had fallen off, revealing a human underneath it. It responded in a raspy voice that sounded very much like a hiss.

"Me want? No, no, it wasn't me that wanted anything. I was following orders from the master...I am glad to meet my death for I have served my purpose. He will be very pleased, was the response."

"How could you have served your purpose? I have fatally wounded you; therefore, you could not have gone anywhere else and done anything else. Tell me now, how you have served your purpose, Menion angrily demanded!"

There was a pause as the robed figure gasped for air. Menion furiously reached down and grabbed the robes that covered his attacker and lifted him in the air. There was no hint of emotion in the attacker's eyes as Menion shook him.

"Answer me now or you'll wish that death would come quicker!"

"I was merely a distraction. You of all people must know of this strategy. My master has commanded me and I have done as he has said. He has sent me with a message and it is simply this; you shall never defy his reign again!"

As the human underneath the hood finished its last words, it began to change shape. At first, Menion thought he was seeing things and was naturally confused as the thing had begun to change shape. It went through many shapes and figure, reflections of his victims, until it finally rested upon one. It resembled the face of a reptile, a snake-like face with green scales over its head. Its tail now sprouted and grew longer then it was before. Menion leaned against a beaten up dummy for a while observing the dead reptile thinking of its last words. Shea had said something when he was listening back in the library...something about his quest that was familiar to him. Suddenly, he began to see the truth. The thing that lay in front of him was a creature of ancient ancestors. It was a changeling. A changeling could take form of anything it chose to. Long ago, when t he Warlock Lord lived in person, they had sworn an alliance with him. Could it be that the Warlock Lord had returned. The more he thought about it, the more it began to make sense. Shocked, Menion stared dumbly at the floor as he came to the realization that there may have been more of these changelings roaming through his castle for the last few days. He then remembered the three elves that had come to his palace days earlier.

It had been four days before the arrival of Shea and Flick. Menion had been roaming the castle in the absence of his parents who were the king and queen of Leah. This left him in charge of ruling over the highlands of Leah. He was having a friendly conversation with the southern tower guards that stood to guard the palace from attack when a messenger from the northern tower came to speak with him. He remembered now the exact words that his messenger had spoken to him. It was of a warning not to allow entrance to the travelers. The messenger had thought them to be suspicious.

"Your majesty, 3 travelers have shone up at the front gates of Leah. They claim to have come from Arborlon but I have not heard or seen these people before. I strongly suggest that you turn them away...it might be smarter to do so."

"Nonsense! Anyone from Arborlon is a friend of ours. The elves from Arborlon stood with me and the other races and made their last stand against the Warlock Lord at Callahorn. It wouldn't be repayment if I was not to allow them entrance. Let them in."

The messenger replied something that Menion did not hear and saluted him before walking back to allow the elves entrance. He remembered the look that the messenger had given him...it was one of fear. The messenger had to share his provisions and living quarters with the elven travelers and would have been the first to die if his suspicious came true. It now seemed to Menion that he should have listened to his messenger.

Menion came instantly out of his thoughts as he reviewed how his rule of Leah had been. He had made mistakes that even a common man would not have made. In a rush of anger, he flung his sword across the room. Dropping to his knees, he attacked the stone floor in fury, letting his emotions hammer into the ground. He had put everyone in the palace in danger and he had not known until now. He thought of his friends, each and every one of them probably dead by now. Then, he remembered his son. Had Shea and Flick rescued him yet? Without another thought, he retrieved his sword from the ground where he had flung it to and went to go check on Shea and Flick, the two people inside his palace that were likely to be the last ones alive.

He walked through the halls, heart pounding crazily at what he had discovered in the living quarters. If his suspicions were true, then the elves that had visited him had been disguised and were changelings. His son was one of the inhabitants that were closest to the elves. The elves had been placed in a room directly above his son's room. They must have penetrated the room and taken his child away by now...or worse, killed him. The one thing that he hated about his palace was its size, and now he hated it most. The room in which his son stayed in was on the opposite side o f the palace at the top of a tower. It would take a couple minutes, running at a fast pace to make it there. His mind raced as he drew nearer and nearer to the tower.

_Shea _dashed down the long corridors of Leah with a building panic. The sounds of battle had ceased long ago. Where was Rone? He wasn't in his room where he was supposed to be! From the looks of his room, someone must have taken him away! He passed the living quarters at the southern wing of the palace, the kitchen and the dining hall...everywhere but one place. Instinctively, he knew that Rone must have been down in the secret dungeon where he, Flick and Menion had played when they were younger. But how would he have gotten in there? The release switch that opened the dungeon was located much higher than Rone could reach. He knew that something had happened. The members of the palace all lay dead in their sleep, throats slit open, no signs of struggle. An inner invasion? No, it must have been done by someone w ho was trusted in the palace, Shea thought to himself. Whatever the reason was, Shea would never find out. As he rounded the last turn to the wine cellars and the secret dungeon that lay inside, he collided at full speed with something tremendously big and hard...then, all went dark. His last thoughts were how he had failed to protect Rone.

_Flick_ had seen the corpse of the changeling upon the ground at the main entrance in the training room. Menion had left which left Flick relieved that his friend was still alive until he thought about the changeling again. With that one sight, his thoughts were confirmed. Something had gone wrong! He forced his panic to cease as he began to run to find Shea who would be returning, hopefully with Rone. As Flick passed the wine cellar entry, he heard a faint cry coming from within the room. Forgetting about Shea and Rone, he went to investigate what the sound was coming from.

He descended the stairs to his left, determined to locate the sound and found himself in the wine cellar. The wine cellar was dark and damp. There was no light available in the cellars. Naturally, the reason for this was to keep the cellar dark and damp. There were racks made from redwood laced the walls of the wine cellar. The racks of course, contained bottles of different wine products upon it. It was like a library for wine, there were "bookshelves" in the middle of the room forming rows of wine racks. It grew silent as Flick penetrated the darkness of the wine cellar. There must have been a secret passage somewhere in the cellars. He remembered that he had been in it as a child along with his brother and Menion. Suddenly, a sharp creak broke the silence. Flick turned around just in time to see a wine rack slide away from the wall until all went dark. As he fell, Flick came to the realization that they had all been tricked and that the thing at the gates was meant to be merely a distraction.

_Menion_ had arrived at the elves room only to find that it w as empty. His worst fears had just come to pass. His child had been kidnaped by the Warlock Lord...but for what reason? He began to pace himself as he ran through the halls trying to find any sign of his son. Where was Shea and Flick? Maybe they had rescued his son before he had been taken away, he thought. He strongly doubted what he had thought and knew that Shea and Flick were either both dead or taken away during his fight with the changeling. Nevertheless, he ran searching for the two brothers, all the time thinking of the events that had passed.

The Sword of Leah which was now strapped behind his back was not where he had last put it. Instead, it had been in the training room...but he hadn't been there for a while. The way the sword was place upon the ground signalized that it had been dropped there recently or the sword would have had dust on its handle. His militaristic mind did not think for very long before he found an answer to his dilemma. His son must have been in there recently and had been practicing! But how long ago was this? He couldn't stop thinking that he could've arrived earlier to find his son and possibly saved him from his fate. He swore at himself. He was always one step behind the Warlock Lord and that made him feel insecure. He yelled then, as loud as he could but the only response was the echo that returned. With a heavy heart, he dashed through the remainder of the halls back to the main entrance hoping to find Shea or Flick or any other occupant of his beloved palace that was still alive and ask of what had happened.

_Rone _had found himself outside of the castle with his hands tightly bound behind his back when he finally awoke from the illusion put upon him. The hand that he had held now turned into a reptilian claw-like hand. He was being roughly carried and handled as well. His captor walked to somewhere Rone could not tell. His eyes had been bound as well as his feet and mouth. Apparently, his kidnaper did not want anyone to know of what had happened to Rone until it was too late to save him. He could hear the sound of running water and the smell that arose from the flowers only found by the Rainbow lake at the end of the Silver river. He had been to this place once or twice when his father had taken him on a hunting expedition. He could feel the heat of the sun upon his back. Who...or what would be this clever and outsmart his father and kidnap him he wondered. For the time being, there was nothing that could be done except to conserve his energy for an escape if it were ever possible. With that thought in mind, he began to drift off to sleep.

He did not fall asleep for a while. The rough feeling of his captor's body as it brushed against him with every step that it took, kept him from falling asleep. He thought of his father and how he would not be there to save him this time. He had to come to accept that he was finally on his own. He had to devise an escape plan by himself...but first, he had to free himself. He tested the bonds that held his hands together and found that it wasn't as tight as he thought it was. He decided then that, that night he would try and escape his captors but he would need to save his energy to escape.

_Menion_ began to panic as he raced through the halls of his precious palace. He didn't care much that his followers that lived in the palace had been slain. He only cared about Shea and Flick who had the power to reverse the nightmare. Little did he know that Shea and Flick had already been captured. "Where were they", Menion whispered to himself as he searched the halls of his palace, listening to the echo of his voice. He was alone in his palace. Even the changelings that had infiltrated his defenses were gone as well. Suddenly from far off in the distance towards the southern wing of his palace came a cry. Menion jumped at the sound that broke the silence. The voice had scared him but he recognized it at once as his son's voice. He hurriedly changed directions and began to dash back the way he had come. As he descended the stairs to the wine cellars, he heard the cry again. Apparently it was coming from inside the wine cellars. Menion knew at once that it must have been inside the secret dungeon that lay behind the racks in front of him. How did the changelings find this dungeon, Menion wondered as he crept foward towards the open dungeon doors.

Menion stood before the doors and peered cautiously in. The crying voice had stopped and all was silent save for the beating in his heart as he thought that he might still have a chance to save his son. An immediate change came over the environment as he stepped into the dungeon. A strong musty smell overpowered the scent of the wines that were behind him. The air grew steadily cooler and moist as he stepped deeper into the cellars to investigate. A sense of danger suddenly flooded into his mind as he took a step further. A sudden laugh penetrated the silence from behind him. He had only enough time to turn around to catch sight of a figure that stood at the dungeon entrance. In the second that it took for him to react, the figure drew the dungeon doors shut, locking Menion within his own dungeon. A sudden wave of panic rushed through his mind as his mind registered that he was stuck in his dungeon. He dashed over to the closed dungeon doors and pounded with his fists, attempting to break through the stone.

"Fool, I'm such a fool, he cried out in anger!" With a last desperate attempt to shatter the stone that blocked his path, he unsteathed the Sword of Leah from his back and stuck the stone with each strike more powerful than the last. The Sword of Leah intensified in brightness as the magic sought to destroy its enemy. Finally all at once, the light died out as Menion sunk to his knees surrendering, the sword cast aside. He knew that even the Sword of Leah would not break through the dungeon's door without it being shattered first. Realizing that he had been tricked and locked inside his own dungeon, there was nothing keeping the feelings that now overcame him. His son had been kidnaped and he could not do anything about it. He began to sob as he thought of what would happen to his son now that there was no one left to protect him.


	2. Chapter 2

The Hadeshorn was a city under the waters that shielded its existence. It was here that the shade Bremen resided in. It was a shade full of guilt and regret. He could not stop the rebel druid Brona from becoming the Warlock Lord and had given his life to stop the evil from spreading. Even after death, he sacrificed his soul to be entombed within the Hadeshorn as a shade to help his apprentice Allanon to defeat the Warlock Lord. What he could not accomplish in life, he was tried to accomplish in the afterlife. As a shade, he could foresee the events that plagued the four lands and had sensed the evil of the Warlock Lord's return. Even after being destroyed completely by the Sword of Shannara, the Warlock Lord had found a way to return...but this time as a shade. The ripples of magic that spread through the four lands had been tampered with by an evil magic that could only have been the Warlock Lord.

Knowing that danger was coming and if something was not done about it, Bremen sought to stop this from happening. However, even the dead had its own governing system. The council of Hadeshorn consisted of the druids that had served in Paranor when it had fallen by the assault of Brona. Even after death, they still disbelieved Bremen and still thought him to be an outcast. Even after death, they were still as arrogant as when they were alive. All of the druids that were in the Hadeshorn had the ability to sense anything that was not right. All of them must have picked up the tampering in the threads of magic that spread throughout the four lands. It was a slight change but strong enough for a druid to sense. Even knowing that something was amiss, none of them had done anything to warn the world of the living. It was like this when they were all alive. He had warned all of them that Brona would turn on them but they all laughed at him and eventually banished him from Paranor for his accusation. They should have learned their lesson, but it appeared to Bremen that they had not. He sighed deeply as he pushed open the doors that lead to the council of the Hadeshorn, hopefully they would at least listen to him this time before he took matters into his own hands.

The council room was circular and empty. The only inhabitants of the room sat behind a high table that was positioned at the end of the room, facing the now open doors. There were 7 druids that were on the council. It was up to them to decide whether the world of the living should be warned about the upcoming threat or not. The 7 druid councilmen looked on as Bremen made his entrance before them. Bowing deeply, the druid Bremen began to speak.

"Greetings high council...I am Bremen."

There was a pause as the councilmen conversed between themselves. They were to decide whether Bremen's case would be heard or not. After a moment of waiting, the druid that sat in the center chair of the council stood and spoke.

"Speak and begone, we have more important matters to tend to."

Bremen was hesitant at first since he did not think the council would even accept his case. Gathering his composure again, he stood up and presented his case.

"As many of you druids must be able to sense, there has been a tampering in the magics that spread throughout the four lands..."

He was interrupted by the councilman that sat on the leftmost chair.

"Just because of a piquant change in the environment, you have reason to believe that something is amiss?"

The council suddenly came alive as the councilmen began to mutter comments to one another. Bremen had expected this from the council and was well prepared. Turning to face the councilman who had interrupted him, he replied casually.

"Perhaps you are the one who would allow another evil power to threaten the destruction of the world again. May I remind you, that it was your fault that the ban on the study of the dark arts was not enforced."

The comments suddenly stopped as the lead councilman held his hand up for order. With a calm look on his face, he spoke to Bremen.

"We have all sensed this change, however, he is right. Such a slight change in the environment could be from a natural cause, something yet to be discovered. Until there is sufficient proof, you do not have permission to make contact with the world of the living. This case is adjourned. Step aside for we have other matters to attend to."

Bremen had expected this answer from the council as well. Once the council had made up its mind, there would be no use in trying to change it back. The council was stubborn and the last comment he had made had brought back the memory of the Warlock Lord Brona. Most of the council were too embarrassed to admit that Bremen had been right. He shook his head slowly as he turned around and exited the council room. Shutting the doors behind him, he knew now that he had to take matters into his own hands and go against the decision of the council.

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The murky waters of the Hadeshorn, the place of the dead souls, hidden from view deep inside the Valley of Shale bubbled and hissed as it sensed a living presence approach. The Hadeshorn was governed by the dead souls that occupied it and it abhorred the living. There was no life inside the Hadeshorn, only the dead that wanted to be alive again. The presence which now stood at the edge of the water hesitated before moving down to the banks of the shore. The wind blew the whispers of the dead into the presence's ear. The presence was one of the few beings that ever dared to visit this place of the dead. The voices warned the presence to go back to where he had come from but the presence stood his ground and shivered at the cold that had settled upon the Valley of Shale. After a long moment of waiting, the figure rose its arms and whispered to the waters of the Hadeshorn.

"Arise, shades of the Hadeshorn. Show me what I wish to know, the voice demanded."

The response was not immediate. The figure stood in the position with his arms raised, not daring to move. The voices that had whispered warnings in his ears had stopped, filling the valley with silence. Then suddenly, the voices roared through the valley, bringing along with it, the courage of the figure who stood there. At once, the figure commanded again in a desperate attempt, using the very last of his courage for the shades to arise. This time, the waters of the Hadeshorn responded to his summoning.

The moon was high in the sky as the waters of the Hadeshorn hissed vehemently and spewed savagely at the presence who stood at its banks commanding it. The moans of the dead filled the valley, even louder than the roar of voices that had reverberated through the valley. The presence did not cower nor flee from these threats. It knew that it had been successful at the summoning and did not want to leave now that he was so close to his goal. The middle of the Hadeshorn parted revealing a robed figure who arose from the emptiness in the center of the Hadeshorn. The robed figure which was the shade that the presence had summoned now levitated above the waters of the Hadeshorn. It now lifted its head and revealed what was behind the hood that once covered its face.

"Does the one who has summoned me, know who I am."

"Yes, you are the outcast druid Bremen who had served the druid's first council many years ago, came the reply."

The shade hesitated as it seemed to scan the figure, searching from head to toe. It was a while before he spoke again, his voice calm and entrancing.

"Indeed I am, you have come to me for the future to be shown. I shall show you now, the future of which will come to pass. Three visions is all I can allow, two of these are inevitable and can not be avoided, and one that can be avoided, if the right measures are taken. But beware of what you see, for it contains many sorrows which may overwhelm you. If I show you these visions, you must swear upon your life that you will prevent the last from happening. It is all I ask in return. If you do what I ask, you shall be set free!"

"Agreed, I shall carry out your charge no matter what the costs, came the reply."

The moon was setting and the sun had peeked over the horizon when the images that had flashed through the presence's mind finally ceased. He had been shown the future of what would come to pass in the four lands...all of them, horrible images of fates that would soon come to pass. But the presence was enticed by the shade's offer. He had been in the command of Bremen's shade for most of his life. Whenever there was trouble, he was summoned to the Hadeshorn and had to carry out his charge. The shade now told him, this was the last charge if he completed it. The presence was a druid as well. He was the last one that existed in the four lands, The shade of Bremen had raised him as he was a child into the thing that could protect the four lands when he had passed away. After the images had ceased, theh shade began its descent back into the waters of the Hadeshorn. Soon, all was silent and calm as the waters of the Hadeshorn ceased to move. The druid that now stood at the banks stared off into the distance as he reviewed the impossible task that was just given to him by the shades of the Hadeshorn.


	3. Chapter 3

The second noon had arrived since Menion had been tricked and trapped inside his own secret dungeon. Luckily, he knew where the food stores inside his own dungeon was located or he would not have been alive. He had been told by his parents that the dungeon was impossible to open from the inside and now their words proved to be true. He had tried many more attempts to somehow open the dungeon from inside but found it to be inconceivable. Menion's parents, the King and Queen of Leah were on vacation, visiting the pleasant view of the Westland, led by an elven group come from Arborlon. They would not be back for long which cut that option of escape from his mind as well. He sank down against the wall feeling even more helpless. He needed time to think at the moment. Hadn't Shea defeated the Warlock Lord when he went to recover the Sword of Shannara and used the talisman on the Warlock Lord? How was he still alive? Could the druid Allanon have been wrong when he said that the four lands were rid of the Warlock Lord? All these thoughts circled around in Menion's mind. Suddenly feeling weary from the many attempts he had made to escape, he knew the best thing to do was to rest and wait for someone to rescue him. Leaning his body in a comfortable position against the wall, he drifted off to sleep while waiting for his rescuer to come, who would arrive sooner than he thought.

As he slept, a dream came to him. In it, he saw himself standing before a massive army of northlanders. In the midst of the army he saw his son, bound to a post that had been constructed for him. Momentarily forgetting to be wary of his surroundings, he raced straight into the army of northlanders and was only a couple of feet in front of his son before he realized that he was inside the army. Many of the northlanders turned his way but looked straight through him as if he wasn't there. The many eyes that laid upon him made him feel uneasy. Directing his attention to what lay ahead, he shook off the feeling and marched over to where his son was. It had been only 2 days since his son had been taken and yet it felt like many years. He collapsed onto his knees as he came before his son who had his head down and eyes closed. A long moment of silence passed as Menion knelt before his son wondering why his son wouldn't wake. He could see his son's chest rising and falling and dismissed the thought of death. Suddenly, his son's head jerked upright and his eyes opened. Morgan stared in horror at what he saw. An instant later, he awoke inside the dungeon. Gasping for air, he tried his best to recall what he had dreamt but found that it was fading rapidly. Dismissing the dream as nothing but a nightmare, he rolled over and went back to sleep.

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Allanon, as fatigued as he was from summoning the shade, had forced himself up the slope that led out of the Hadeshorn and into the surrounding Valley of Shale. Thousands of unanswered questions raced through his mind. He shook his head to dispel the clouds that began to haze over his vision. There would be time for questions later. He knew what he had to do and how little time he had to do so. He had been shown three visions, the first was to rescue the Prince of Leah who would become the key to the mortifying charge given to him by the shade of Bremen. The shade had shown him the return of the Warlock Lord again but this time, as a aliquot spirit who clinged onto life by its last remnants of magic. What it planned to do with his remaining power was made clear to Allanon by the shade of Bremen. He was to put a stop to the Warlock Lord before he could do any damage to the four lands again. Allanon had regretted his decision of visiting the Hadeshorn at all but if he did not, the shade would have kept reappearing in his dreams and haunt him until he did. It was time for him to save the four lands again, only this time, it was a little different.

Wanting to separate the truth and the lies behind Bremen's visions, Allanon journeyed as quickly as he could to the northland, to the skull kingdom. It had been a trek of 2 days on horseback traveling from daybreak to nightfall stopping only for meals and short period rests. The air in the northland reeked of the dying and the dead. The sun never shined here as an effect of the Warlock L ord's magic of shielding. The druid Allanon sat in the shadows as he watched the Northern army of goblins, trolls and creatures of dark magic gathering for their full frontal assault on the Border Legion at Callahorn and the rest of the four lands as well. Even with the Border Legion's record of undefeat, Allanon had little reason to believe that even the Border Legion could survive against the Northern stronghold of millions of offenders and counting. It would be a slaughter unlike any other if the war was to come to pass. The Warlock Lord would summon creatures that should only be seen in the worst of nightmares. Suddenly, his sharp eyes and druidic sense picked up a presence that seemed to gather inside the heart of the encampment. Leaning forward to see what had set off his senses, he felt his stomach begin to knot.

In the heart of the encampment, there was a dark mass of shadows which moved freely to and fro. Allanon instinctively knew that it was the cold and ruthless Warlock Lord that had once been the rebel druid Brona who studied the dark arts. The shadow began to move cautiously as if it could sense the druid's presence. As Allanon sat and measured the strength of the army, the army suddenly turned into his direction as the shadow grew rigid and glanced over at where he sat. He chuckled at himself for being ignorant of the Warlock Lord. He had thought the Warlock Lord to be powerless in that state and did not expect to be detected so soon. Nonetheless, it was time to flee, Allanon decided. He had been discovered. As he turned to saddle up his horse and make his escape, a sudden force slammed into his back. Struggling to maintain consciousness, he turned just in time to see a bolt of dark energy collide into his chest, zapping away the last of his air...then, all went black.


	4. Chapter 4

_**Author's note**:_ _Sorry if the chapters are kinda short now but i've had midterms and had to study for it so i couldn't write as much, i promise the next chapter will be a lot longer. In the meantime, i hope you enjoy reading as much as i did writing._

Allanon could feel himself being carried upon the rough back of a troll as the troll ascended a flight of stairs. As he slowly regained feeling in his body, he could feel the extent of damage done by the bolt of energy. His chest still burned like fire from the impact and every impact from the ascending of the troll sent pain searing across his chest. He had underestimated by far the power of the Warlock Lord and now if he did not escape, he would doom the fate of the four lands. He tried to open his eyes but found that it had been bound by some type of magic force. It didn't matter much, his druid senses could tell what was happening around him without him opening his eyes. He knew where he was being taken and if he did not escape, there would be no chance of escape. He had been inside the room before when he had to rescue everyone during the last quest against the Warlock Lord. He had released the hidden cache from outside to open the door and could see no cache on the other side. Once he was put in there, there would be no escape.

For the first time in many years, a strong wave of guilt rushed through him. He was supposed to be the protector of the four lands and yet he had fallen prey to the enemy he sought to defeat. He had underestimated his enemy when he knew he should not have. With each step passing, he felt worse and worse. For the first time in his life, he thought about the people that he had let down and the people that he had lied to in order to gain what he wanted. He thought of all the negatives things in his life that he had done and tried to find a positive thing to redeem it. He found only negatives things in his life. Suddenly, a new feeling rushed through him. He would not let the Warlock Lord succeed even if it cost him his life. For once, he would do something good in his life to make up for all the wretched things that he had done. At once, he summoned all the power he had left in his body and sent it to shatter the strands of magic that held his hands and eyes bound. He found the response immediate, the Warlock Lord's power was not as strong as it was before and it broke off instantly.

Without hesitation, he freed himself easily from the troll's grasp and burned it to a pile of ashes in mere seconds as he fought to keep his resolve over the pain that dispersed through his chest. The suddenness of the pain brought him down to his knees as he clutched his chest with both hands. He knew that he did not have time to hesitate or the army of the Warlock Lord would be on him and that would be the end for him. With that in mind, he eased himself up against the wall and began to sprint down the stairs. He was still far from ground level and after he reached ground level he would have to get across the encampment which was full of enemies who would be looking for him soon enough. Even if the northlanders had not seen the flash of druid fire that he had omitted, he was sure that the Warlock Lord would have sensed it and alerted his army.

It was a couple minutes pass before Allanon reached the bottom of the stairs and as he did, he heard the shouts of alarm that arose from the encampment in front of him. He hurriedly reached his hands back and found to his relief that his hood had not been blasted off by the black bolt of energy and hastily put it on. He reasoned that if he could only make it through the ranks of enemies without being detected then he would have a greater chance of escape rather than fighting them head on. He knew that he was not strong enough for a head on battle and the pain in his chest was worsening with each passing breath. His heart began to accelerate as he moved closer and closer to the front line of the encampment. Trying his best to pass off as a northlander, he pulled his hood closer over his head to shield his face from view and walked beside a group of goblins who were walking the same way he was headed.

"What's the alarm for, one goblin asked as he checked the short sword that he strapped around his waist."

The reply came from one of the other goblins that were traveling along, "The druid Allanon has escaped..."

"Yeah, so what? So I had to quit my nap for this, why doesn't the master search for the druid himself if he's all powerful."

A sudden idea traversed Allanon's mind as he watched the goblins arguing with themselves. He knew how the northlanders were dim witted and would start a fight within their own ranks over simple things. If he could help to excite them, maybe he could create a diversion and escape while causing a chaotic scene. It would slow down their approach to Callahorn at least. The more he thought about it, the more it sounded like the right option to take. He smiled to himself as he thought how bold this idea was. He knew exactly what to do and waited until he was within a big group of northlanders, all who were looking for him. As he passed beside the two goblins that were arguing, he shoved one of them into another. The response was what he had hoped for. Within seconds, the two goblins had started a fight between themselves and only moments later, the rest of the army joined in. None of them noticed the cloaked figure that ran off into the distance.

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Menion awoke several hours later to a thumping of footsteps outside the dungeon he was trapped in. It sounded like more than one person but he couldn't tell because the voices were muffled and distorted by the thick dungeon walls. He resisted the urge to yell out for help from not knowing who was on the other side. When the voices became clearer as they came nearer, he was glad that he didn't yell. The voices were harsh and rough. Menion knew at once that the voices were of a goblin and a troll. He had heard them once before when he was fighting the battle at Callahorn which decided the fate of the four lands until Shea could destroy the Warlock Lord. He waited for the voices to pass by before he got up to get food from the food storage. At least the Warlock Lord thought he was dead. That would be a good thing which he could use to his advantage. The dungeon was lit by the torches that Menion had lit earlier before to illuminate the many passages around. The dungeons of Leah had never been used before to imprison anyone. The need had never arrived. The walls had moss growing on it which acted as a pillow as Menion lay against the wall after his brief meal. When would he be rescued, he wondered as he lay against the wall listening to the voices of the goblin and troll as they came back again.

"Ha, the prince never knew what hit him! Now that he is gone, the plan of the Warlock Lord will surely succeed, said the goblin."

"The heir of the Shannara bloodline has been captured, everyone who would have been a threat has been neutralized. Only the druid Allanon lives, he is a slippery devil isn't he, was the response from the troll who spoke in a rougher voice."

"Yeah, I'd like to show that druid what I've got, he probably wouldn't even last a second against me, the other boasted."

There was a pause as Menion heard another voice, a familiar one. The voice was that of someone Menion knew but could not remember who it was. Suddenly, the wine cellar on the other side of the dungeon wall erupted in sudden yells. He could barely hear the sound of a weapon being drawn before all was silent once again. He heard footsteps coming over to the dungeon and without hesitation, drew the Sword of Leah from out of his sheath on his back, waiting for the wine rack to slide open and reveal the new person. Moments later, a sharp click sounded as the release catch was activated on the other side of the wall causing the wine rack slid open revealing a robed figure that Menion recognized instantly. It was the druid Allanon.

"It is time that we leave this place. Hurry, I have visited the Hadeshorn recently and had been told that the Warlock Lord has returned with his army at full force...maybe even double the number that we last witnessed. If we do not rush, we may not be able to save the four lands this time, or your son Rone who is at his mercy. More importantly, you will have to journey to the Northland, to t he skull kingdom, the Warlock Lord's domain and destroy him. I was not told how you would accomplish this or what would happen from now until then but I am sure that you will find more answers as you journey forth. I have matters of my own to attend to and we shall meet again sometime in your journey. Now go."

The druid turned around and walked away towards the main entrance hall leaving a bewildered Menion standing in the wine cellar. Had he heard correctly? The Warlock Lord and his army had returned and he was to stop him? How would he do that? He didn't even have the Shannara bloodline within him or even the elfstones. He doubted that the Sword of Leah could do much against the Warlock Lord. Why had the druid given him this quest? He stood there thinking for a short while longer before finally deciding that he would heed the druid's words and complete his quest. He prepared his supplies quickly as he rummaged through the rest of the food stores in the dungeon and turned to head towards the gates of Leah. As he opened the gates of Leah a short while later, he turned around to bid farewell to his memories at Leah, not knowing if he would return alive or not.


	5. Chapter 5

**Authors note:** Good evening fans of my fan fic, I haven't updated for quite a while and it feels great to be back on track. I recently lost all my data due to a computer crash which almost led to me just giving up on this fan fiction when I suddenly found a drafted copy of the story which I had printed out long ago. So I picked up the copy and started to re-read it, sure some pages are missing but I guess that will have to do, at least I didn't lose the whole story :-D. Even without this copy, I still have an outline of what would have happened so rest assured, I have many back-up plans. Anyway, enjoy reading!

Shea awoke with a start, gasping for air. The last thing that he remembered was that he was at Leah searching for Rone when he crashed into something. His head suddenly throbbed painfully as soon as he thought those words. Wondering where he was, he pushed himself uneasily up off the soft earth and took a look at his surroundings. There was minimal light coming from the heavily leafed treetops and a light mist wrapped itself into the air. As he stood attempting to gain his bearings, the mist wrapped itself around Shea like a blanket and his feet began to sink into the earth below. The air had a distinct stench to it that reminded Shea of waste and sewage. He lifted his feet slightly before his feet would have sunk completely into the soft earth and took a step forward to try and get a better look at what was beyond the treetops.

His weapons had been taken away from him leaving him with no protection as he now walked through this foreign territory. He still could not tell if it was morning or night even as he squinted his eyes, attempting to penetrate through the thick treetops. With a sigh of disappointment, he finally gave up as he realized that his efforts were hopeless, after all, if it wasn't morning then he probably couldn't see anything at all. Since there was a bit of light seeping through from the treetops, he reasoned to himself that it was probably daytime. All around him was an eerie silence aside from the noise that he made with each step. As he trudged along further, the mist that surrounded him grew heavier and denser. The weight of the mist was beginning to prevent him from moving his limbs without using at least a bit of conscious effort. He couldn't help but think that he had been to this place once before...suddenly, he began to panic as he came to a conclusion of where he was. Judging from the amount of mist that enveloped him, the softness of the ground and the scent of the air, he concluded that he was deep inside the dreaded Mist Marsh!

As if the marsh responded to his sudden conclusion, the marsh too burst into motion. There was movement all around Shea now, he could hear the brush of leaves and the heavy steps of creatures moving all about. The marsh was very much alive. The creatures of the marsh would be coming for him soon when the sun fully set leaving the marsh in total darkness. With not much of a choice, Shea began to desperately wander around, searching for the edge of the marsh, twice almost falling into endless pits as he neared the boundaries of the marsh. After what seemed like hours of endless searching, he still could not find the boundary of the marsh. Eventually, he surrendered to the marsh and sat by a small lake. The sun would be down soon, he could tell by the way the light entered the marsh that the sun was just peeking over the horizon. He looked around for a place to take cover for the night. The marsh's monster that had almost claimed his life and Menion's life during their first trip against the Warlock Lord had been slain by a team of men from Leah that included him. He had first-handily witnessed the death of the monster as it sank back into the marsh waters. There was not much to be afraid of now in the marsh. He was so comfortable lost in his thoughts that he did not see the tiny ripples in the lake he now sat beside and the monstrous tentacle that now penetrated the surface ever so gently, making hardly any noise at all.

The movement in the forest suddenly stopped as if they were afraid of something. He walked now, cautiously, not aware that the threat of danger was behind him. His path was met with no resistance. Even the shrubs and the other exotic plants that grew in the mist marsh had frozen as if they were stuck in time. The winds that blew through the marsh that had made the only distinguishable noise had ceased to exist adding more to the silence of the marsh. The only sounds came from the squishing sound as his shoes met the muddy ground of the marsh. Sensing something was wrong, he began to frantically look around in all directions for the danger that was present in the air. The part inside him that knew the marsh monster had not been slain awoke.

It had been only a summer ago when he, Menion and a few other highlanders had set out to slay the horrific monster. They had traveled through the mist marsh for a week straight and had not seen the monster. It was as if the monster knew it was being targeted and hid itself so that it could not be found. Even with the best trackers of the highlands present in the group, the monster could not be tracked down since it dwelled not on land but in the dark murky waters of the marsh that even the trackers grew wary of. The search had been from dawn to dusk, when the light in the marsh was the greatest and even then, not even a trace of the monster had been found. The party had split into two groups, each containing an equal amount of trackers and armed men that would stand against the monster if it was found. The groups of men encountered many fearsome creatures and other fairly odd creatures that had never been seen before but their objective was not found.

On the seventh day of the search when supplies were at their limits, the team had decided that the seventh day would be their last in their search for the marsh monster. Dawn broke seeping its feeble rays of light through the heavy treetops. The group split into three this time and went their separate ways leaving a trail of colored ribbon so they could find their way back. One group went to the northern part of the marsh. One group went to the southern part of the marsh. The last group which contained both Menion and Shea set out and searched through the heart of the marsh. The groups had agreed upon that they would not engage combat with the monster without reinforcements, no unnecessary deaths would occur in this way. Shea remembered every detail of that day. He had been with Menion and several others with the trackers leading the search party. It had been the same as the other days, the marsh was silent save for the sounds they made and occasional sounds from the safety of the plant cover around them. They encountered nothing throughout the day and had returned to regroup with the other parties to see if they had found anything that would signify that the monster was even alive.

Camp was set up since it was already dark when the search parties had reunited. The looks on the faces of the group told Shea that nothing had been found. They would leave in the morning and return to the highlands to resupply and come back to the marsh another time. Shea was disappointed partly because he wanted to prove to the others that there was actually a monster of the marsh and partly because he was afraid himself that such a creature even existed in the four lands. Everyone sat around a fire that day that surprisingly stayed lit even though its base was the muddy earth beneath it. The exchange of dialect between the different highlanders suggested that they didn't even believe that there was a monster of the marsh which disheartened Shea even more. Rising up from the ground, he whispered to his friend Menion that he was going to walk around for a while, unable to bear the humiliation that he was facing with the group of people. It was him that planned the quest to slay the monster and without even a trace of the existence of such a monster, he could see why no one believed him. Unable to compensate with the humiliation, he left the group of highlanders and walked off into the marsh alone.

If the monster really did die, then why was he feeling this way? He hated feeling a constant fear that what almost claimed his life would still be out there waiting for its chance to claim his life another day. He cursed at the ignorance of the other highlanders knowing that it was helpless since none of the highlanders present save Menion had even been out of the highlands therefore, to believe such a monster existed was clearly a joke to them. Walking into a forest clearing, he looked ahead and saw that he was at the edge of a still lake. Sitting down against a rock, he peered out into the dark murky waters.

"Here I am monster of the marsh, won't you show yourself to me? Or are you a coward and wish to stay hidden to live another day, Shea spoke to the waters."

There was no response. The murky waters remained calm. Pulling his feet out from the mud that had sucked it in, he stood from the rock and waited, peering still into the waters of the lake. He waited until he was satisfied and turned to walk back. A sudden noise caught his attention causing him to turn back to the still lake behind him, a sudden fear rising up inside him. But nothing was there. The lake's surface lay still and unbroken. Scoffing at his sudden rise of fear, he turned around again and continued to walk back to the group that was waiting for him at camp oblivious to the tentacle that broke the surface of the lake silently and swiftly coming straight for him.

If it wasn't for the sudden yell from Menion who had followed his friend Shea to try to cheer his friend up, Shea would not have lived past the day. Hardened instincts from the previous quest to the Warlock Lord brought Shea instantly to the ground narrowly avoiding the tentacle that struck past his head. Moving immediately into action, Menion drew his sword which was already glowing a ghoulish green and swung it at the monster who instantly drew back its tentacle to avoid damage to itself.

"I'll hold the monster off Shea, you go and run to tell the others! We need reinforcements!"

A tentacle whipped past Menion barely missing his head by a centimeter. He swung his blade downwards and severed the tentacle from the monster who had begun to lift itself from the marsh's waters.

"Damn, what are you doing Shea? Quick run! If we are to defeat this monster, we'll need the power of the other highlanders. Tell them to set ablaze their arrows and hurry over here!"

But, Shea knew that he could not move. His fears that he had suppressed about the monster kept him frozen on the ground. He lifted his head and looked at his friend who was fearlessly facing off the monster single-handedly and felt ashamed that he could not move himself. Seeing the fear that reflected off his friend's eyes, Menion feinted an attack at the monster and quickly dropped to his friend's side and forced him to his feet.

"What's gotten into you! This is our chance to slay the thing that had almost claimed our lives not so long ago. Do you want to lose this chance? We have not even seen a trace of this beast for seven days and now you just lay there helpless? You are not the same Shea..., I am disappointed in you. Wasn't it you who had faced off the Warlock Lord but now, you can't even face against a monster significantly weaker than that? Get a hold of yourself!"

He shoved Shea into the direction facing the camp and turned around just in time to fend off another barrage of razor like tentacles that sought to rip him apart. Taking a step back, he gasped heavily for air, paused for an instant to look over his shoulder and was relieved to see that Shea had left. Heaving his sword into the air again, he rushed at the monster.


End file.
